


Iron Bull's Soul.

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asala and Bull have been something for a while, but after the Winter Palace and the events on the storm coast he starts to wonder what that means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Bull's Soul.

The Iron Bull watches her, stretched out by the fire he takes up more space than is probably necessary but no one seems to mind. They step over or around him, skirting his legs, careful not to trip over his boots. Asala is the second of their party to relax by the fire both being more accustomed to living out of a pack than the rest of their party.

She sits on the ground in front of the bench and he smiles absently when she draws her knees up and rests her elbows on them. Asala smiles back and dips her head, forehead to forearms. They sit in comfortable quiet as the camp settles around them.

One by one the rest of their companions join them by the fire. Sera and Lace giggle as they sit, filling them in on some joke that’s probably only funny to Fereldans. Dorian follows, at least they assume it’s the man beneath the pile of furs and not the bear that ate him.

Asala reaches up, around her horns, the way she’s done every night they’ve spent in camp. Bull watchers as she takes down her hair. First she uncoils the tight bun and running her fingers through the ponytail before pulling out the leather thong and shaking her hair loose. She stops and tilts her head towards the conversation, laughing at something the ‘Vint mutters.

Then she pulls her hair over one shoulder and reaching up just below her horns she starts to braid. He’s seen her do it a hundred times before and if you asked him he couldn’t tell you what it is about this particular night. Perhaps the futility of the routine has finally gotten to him but the sight of her instantly restyling her hair makes him chuckle.

Her eyes lock on him from under her downturned brow. “What?” She asks, the ghost of a smirk on her lips when she raises her head, nimble fingers braiding the hair over her shoulder and twisting the bit of leather around it.

“It seems like a waste of time.”

“What does?”

“Your hair.”

“Should I shave it all off?”

He laughs again. “It’s just the bun, the braid. It seems like a lot of work.” For the briefest moment she thinks he looks embarrassed.

“Of course it looks that way to you.” She shifts her weight and scoots the short distance to where he sits. “You don’t even have hair.”

“Enlighten me, Kadan.”

She leans against him, despite the glances, ignoring her usual urge to not appear attached in public. “The bun is practical, it holds all my hair , nothing lose, no stray hair to distract me in battle so I won’t hit you in the ass with a fireball.”

“My tailor appreciates that,” he interrupts wrapping an arm around her.

She finds herself sinking into the embrace. “It’s uncomfortable though, after a while I mean. The braid keeps my hair out of my face, but it doesn’t really hold up in battle.”

“Why braid it at all?” He lifts the braid as he asks, pulling it through his fingers like a length of rope. “Why not leave it loose?”

“Habit mostly, it’s easier to brush in the morning.” She lets her head rest against his shoulder and looks up at him considering. “Why the sudden interest in my grooming habits?”

He lets her braid drop back to her shoulder and shrugs. He’s aware of the eyes and ears on them. This is the most affectionate they’ve been publically. With the events on the Storm Coast and the threats that accompanied abandoning the dreadnoughts they’d agreed to keep things quiet, to be casual.

The Iron Bull had never had a problem being casual. So why was it so hard now to simply tell her he liked her hair down? Why did his chest feel tight with her arm resting on his thigh? And why was he turning down quick fucks from pretty servents?

 _Kadan_ , he felt the weight of the dragon’s tooth against his chest, certainly she understood. The question hung above his head. She didn’t need an answer, she’d already moved on, teasing Dorian about the furs with the rest of the party.

Interested eyes still lingered on them, and he tried to form an answer to her question. But before he could say the words he felt her head bow, she tucked the little hair tie inside her shirt and shook out the braid; a quick smile up at him before rejoining the conversation.

Asala was the perfect name for her, he thought looking down at her, cackling at some filthy joke from Sera. Without the Qun she’d become his soul.


End file.
